


The Winner Takes It All

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, I just don't know, March Madness!, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You know nothing about basketball,” he pointed out. “You didn't even know what a shot clock was.”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Well,” Mac huffed. “I do now.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winner Takes It All

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't know. I'm going with March Madness infecting me. The title comes from the song by a little known band called ABBA. Maybe you've heard of them?

Will had mentioned, in passing, about creating a bracket, and Mac, home on maternity leave and starved for adult interactions, immediately perked up.

"A bracket? I could fill one of those out,” she said, settling down on the couch next to him, and he reached over and plucked Charlotte out of her arms. “Who else is filling out a bracket? How much do I have to put in?”

Will finally dragged his attention away from the baby, giving her a sideways look.

“You know nothing about basketball,” he pointed out. “You didn't even know what a shot clock was.”

“Well,” Mac huffed. “I do _now_.”

“Seriously,” Will shifted the baby into his other arm, and Mac tucked herself into his free side. “You want to fill out a bracket?”

“Absolutely,” Mac answered, running a finger down the baby's cheek, leaning into Will to brush a kiss to Charlotte's downy head.

“It's a steep entrance fee,” he warned.

“Pfft,” Mac waved her hand, stealing the baby back off of him. “My husband is a very rich man, I'll have you know. He’ll pay my way.”

“Your mother is a gold digger,” he told Charlotte in a sing-song voice. "She's going to bleed me dry."

"That's the plan," Mac agreed. "Right after my bracket beats yours."

* * *

When he arrived home the next night after the show, Charlotte was asleep, and Mac was on the couch, feet tucked up underneath her, chewing on the end of a pen, and concentrating hard.

She didn't even glance up when he walked in the door, and he cleared his throat loudly to get her attention.

“Oh,” Mac looked up and smiled at him. “Hello. I'm filling out my bracket.” Will shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair and then coming behind her on the couch, dropping a kiss to top of her head. He leaned over her shoulder, peering at her mostly filled bracket.

“You have Stanford beating Kansas,” Will pointed out, reaching down and tapping his finger on the south region. “Kansas is a _two_ seed, MacKenzie. Just because you like a team's colors...” Her eyes narrowed at him.

“Try to be less condescending,” Mac scoffed. “I'm not picking teams because I like their _colors_.”

“Why are you picking teams?” Will asked, looking back at her bracket. “You have UConn winning it all.”

“That was Theo's favorite team,” she explained. “His brother played for the football team.”

Will didn't have to ask who Theo was. Theo had been a marine, had shielded Mac from gunfire, had thrown her on the ground and covered her body with his when they were in Pakistan. Theo had died at 20, three and a half weeks before his twenty-first birthday.

Will owed goddamn _everything_ to Theo.

Will pressed a kiss to her temple, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

“That's as good of a reason as any,” he murmured. She hummed in agreement, and then tilted her face and gave him a soft smile.

“They also have a really cute mascot,” she added, picking up her pen and scribbling in the rest of the teams. "It's a huskie." She paused, thinking, and then her eyes lit up, "we should get a huskie."

"No," Will answered immediately. "You're sleep deprived and stir crazy. You're also the mother of a newborn and the president of a news organization. And you want to add a puppy to the mix?"

"Not just a puppy," Mac explained primly. "A _huskie_." Then she got another dangerous glint in her eye, one that Will recognized. He swallowed hard.

"No," he tried, and she grinned.

"Want to make this more interesting?" She asked.

"I don't think I want to know what you have in mind," Will replied.

"If I win," she started.

"You get a puppy?" Will guessed.

"Oh, no," Mac shook her head with a grin. "With a newborn and the hours we work? Are you crazy?"

"You just...you just said," he sputtered, and she kissed him hard to shut him up.

"If _I_ win, we take that trip to London that I know you've been dreading."

"I love my in laws, just..." Will shrugged. "When you're all together it's...a lot."

"I know, sweetie," Mac agreed, sympathetically. "But if I win, we take Charlie to London to shut my mother and sisters up, and if _you_ win, well." Her grin turned salacious, and she leaned forward so that her mouth was only inches from his ear and whispered what she would do to him (or more accurately, what she would let _him_ do to _her_ ).

Will was momentarily stunned silent, and Mac bit her lip and waited.

"Game on," he agreed.

* * *

“Did you know that your wife's bracket is winning?” Jim said by way of greeting, throwing open Will's office door.

“What?” Will glanced up from what he was reading. The expression on Jim's face was two parts amusement, one part irritation.

“Mac's bracket. She's winning,” Jim explained. “She's somehow correctly guessed six of the elite eight teams.”

“How is that possible?” Will asked.

“It's Mac,” Jim shrugged. “I'm sure she did a ton of research. She probably spent hours reading about the odds of one team or another.”

“She didn't,” Will exclaimed. “I think she just picked teams that her marines liked.”

“Well, it's working for her,” Jim muttered, scanning her bracket again. “She's cleaning up.”

“If she wins,” Will started, and Jim groaned.

“She’ll be unbearable.”

"Fuck," Will sighed. "Guess I should get our passports in order."

* * *

“Say it again,” MacKenzie demanded lazily from where she was laying, the sheet tucked around her, her chin propped up in her palm, her head down at the bottom of the bed. Will was propped up against the headboard, and she stuck her naked leg out from under the covers and he caught her foot. “Say, ‘you won, you know more than basketball than I do. You are the single most brilliant woman I have ever met.’”

“You won, you know more about basketball than I do,” Will parroted, then he gently squeezed her ankle and told her sincerely, “you _are_ the most brilliant woman I have ever met.”

Mac sat up, letting the sheet fall from around her as she leaned forward to kiss him.

“I can’t believe that you picked Connecticut,” Will mused. “And they won. They were an _eight_ seed!”

“I’m thinking of starting a new career as a college basketball analyst,” Mac shrugged, leaning back on her elbows.

“Is that right?” Will asked, his hand wandering under the covers and up her bare legs.

“Uh-huh,” Mac’s breath caught in her throat as his hand traveled north. “I think it’s, uh,” she lost her train of thought and he pinched her inner thigh, “my calling.”

“Not the news?”

“Nope,” she grinned at him.

“When are you planning to start this new career?” Will asked.

“Oh,” Mac answered. “After we get back from London.” Her grin widened. “I hope you didn’t forget. A bet’s a bet, Billy.” He groaned, and she stilled his hand from its exploration. “I’m making the reservations.”

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed. “But the tickets are on you, you know. You can use your winnings.”

“Deal, and you know what I’m willing to do?” She intertwined their fingers, and gave his hand a squeeze.

“What’s that? Besides give me a hell of a consolation prize,” Will finally mirrored her grin.

“Next year,” Mac replied, releasing his hand and letting her own hand do some wandering. “I’ll help you fill you your bracket. I think I’m going to retire a champion.”


End file.
